


(She and he were) Meant to be

by SmilinStar



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi-Character POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5397719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilinStar/pseuds/SmilinStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he has plans to turn their story into a telenovela one day, well, he decides to just keep that to himself. For now. </p>
<p>(Or a story about everyone else's stories of how they came to know Jane and Michael belonged together).</p>
            </blockquote>





	(She and he were) Meant to be

 

 

\-----

 

 

Jane and Michael hadn't even been dating six months when Xiomara realises her daughter has found 'The One'.

 

She hadn't been keen on any of Jane's boyfriends up until now. And yes she'd had her reservations about every single one of them because what kind of mother would she be if she hadn't? But then each and every one of them had proven her right so far, and so it did nothing to help the sense of justification. That's not to say she'd gotten any satisfaction out of it. After all, it always came at the expense of her daughter's broken heart, and she never wanted that. Ever.

 

And so, though she could see the way Jane would light up around Michael, the way her smiles would literally reach up to sparkle out of her eyes every time she talked about him. And though she could see the look of utter adoration that would take over Michael's face every time he looked at her daughter, she still had her doubts.

 

And it takes nearly six months for those doubts to finally shatter.

 

It happens on a Saturday night.

 

Michael had stayed over for dinner, and like the polite boyfriend that he was, had eaten every last scrap of food on his plate, even if Alba had gone slightly overboard with the chilli and he'd blown up like a tomato half way through. Still, he hadn't complained. Responded to Jane's, “You okay, babe?” with an “Uh, huh” cough, splutter, gulp of cold water, a thumbs up and another mouthful. Jane had just shaken her head and bit down on a smile.

 

“You really don't have to eat it all,” Xo had told him.

 

“No,” cough, “No, it's fine. Just went down the wrong pipe. It's lovely, really.” And then to Alba, “Gracias, es delicioso,” he'd said in rough Spanish. Still, she gave him points for trying.

 

It's after the meal that Jane and Michael offer to wash up.

 

She argues, but Jane puts up a fight, ends the discussion with a “Ma! It's fine. We don't mind. Go put your feet up. We'll take care of it.”

 

And so she puts up her hands in surrender and settles on the couch in front of the TV, while Alba disappears to her room, tired from a long day.

 

She doesn't mean to eavesdrop on her daughter and her boyfriend, but she loses track of the telenovela currently playing out on screen having already missed a week's worth of the drama, and well, the constant giggling and whispering becomes a little hard to ignore.

 

And so she catches herself being one of _those_ parents, spying shamelessly on her kid, but like she'd said, it's kind of difficult not to, what with them being just _there_ , and it's not like they were actively trying to hide from her.

 

They're standing side by side at the sink, Michael on washing up duty and Jane standing right, like _right_ , next to him, drying cloth in hand as he hands her each plate.

 

“Nope,” Jane says then, waving the dish he'd just washed under his nose.

 

Michael looks down at her, “What? Why?”

 

“It's still dirty.”

 

“Where?” he grabs at the plate, staring at the sparkling surface. So focussed is he on trying to find this imaginary spot he'd missed, he completely fails to notice Jane sneaking a hand into the basin and then promptly smearing his face with sudsy water.

 

Michael looks stunned for a moment before twisting to look down at Jane, who looks up at him the picture of innocence, biting down on her lower lip.

 

He shakes his head, the surprise quickly shifting into a smile, “That was a dirty move Miss Villanueva.”

 

“Oh I'm sorry Officer, you were such an easy target.”

 

Pursing his lips, he nods, eyes then dropping to the sink, and it's clearly obvious what's coming next and Jane catches on fast.

 

“Oh no,” she says, taking a step back, “No, no, I'm sorry. I'm sorry!” she shrieks as Michael flicks water at her relentlessly until she's throwing up her hands and screaming mercy.

 

Xo thinks now is as good as time as any to interrupt before the entire kitchen gets flooded and Alba comes in and starts looking for Noah's ark and animals to rescue.

 

She clears her throat. Loudly.

 

The two of them stop immediately; flush bright at being caught, clearly having forgotten she was sitting there.

 

“Sorry,” they both say at the same time, and quickly follow it up with a, “We'll clean it up.”

 

She nods, pretends to turn her attention back to the TV.

 

There's just the sound of whispering and giggling again and then she hears him say it.

 

“You know, I used to watch my parents do this all the time.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“This,” and it's clear what he means by it, and something lodges in Xo's chest as the thought settles.

 

“I just,” he continues, “I get it.”

 

And what Xo gets is the ease, the comfort, the ability to just enjoy each other's company doing the most mundane of tasks, day in day out, and never wanting anything more, and she gets it, because she wants that too.

 

And if any of them should be lucky enough to get it, she'd want it for Jane.

 

And watching them both, she finally sees she has it.

 

With Michael.

 

“Me too,” Jane smiles.

 

\-----

 

 

It doesn't take much for Rogelio to decide he's #TeamMichael.

 

A generous offer to let him shadow him at work for a day, hours on end on a stake-out, a mutual discovery of a love of impressions (a very underrated acting skill in his, highly sought and valued, opinion) - they were bound to become good friends.

 

And let's be honest, here. There isn't a single person Rogelio has met, that hasn't instantly fallen in love with him and wanted to become his best friend. And who is he to deny them the pleasure and satisfaction a friendship with Rogelio de la Vega could bring to their lives?

 

In any case, he warmed to Michael so naturally, he wasn't ashamed to admit it caught him off-guard how quickly it happened. Before he knew it, they were sharing a secret handshake and Rogelio was inviting him along for mani-pedis (which Michael naturally protested but secretly loved).

 

And though he hadn't been lying when he'd told Michael he was first and foremost #TeamJane because above all he wanted his daughter's happiness, he couldn't help but think that that happiness lay with Michael and not Rafael.

 

He had nothing against Rafael.

 

He didn't. Even if he was still slightly (very slightly, okay more than slightly) annoyed he hadn't thought to ask his permission before asking for his Jane's hand in marriage.

 

But it wasn't even about that.

 

(Mostly.)

 

It was the look in Michael's eyes every time he looked at his daughter.

 

It was the sort of look he wished he could bottle and sell to his fellow actors so that they might be able to act to his same high standards and be worthy to share the same screen as he.

 

Because if there was ever a look of pure love and longing, Michael had it perfected.

 

And his Jane deserved nothing but pure love.

 

And that's why he was #TeamMichael.

 

And even though he told him to #MoveOn, he never stopped secretly hoping that Jane and Michael ended up together.

 

Because what could he say?

 

He was a romantic.

 

And wouldn't it just be the most perfect ending ever?

 

If he has plans to turn their story into a telenovela one day, well, he decides to just keep that to himself. For now.

 

 

\-----

 

 

In the beginning, it was fairly obvious why Petra had come to the conclusion that Jane and Michael belonged together. She wasn't afraid to admit it was entirely self-serving. After all, no one would have expected any less from her.

 

Just as she knew that she and Rafael belonged together, she knew Jane belonged with Michael. Or anyone really. Anyone who _wasn't_ Rafael Solano.

 

But then somewhere along the way, between realising Rafael would never love her again and resigning herself to this fact, succumbing to Milos' demands and marrying her stalker ex, eventually finding a way to divorce him, and then against all odds falling into an unlikely friendship with Jane Villanueva (despite the many false starts, second chances and in spite of her mother), she ends up seeing it. The truth.

 

Jane and Michael really do belong together.

 

It's the kind of love that fuelled her many fairytale inspired dreams growing up as a young girl in the harsh realities of a Soviet controlled Czechoslovakia. It's steadfast and loyal, comforting and warm, an always and forever, and I would do anything for you, kind of love.

 

Something she still dreams of, even now.

 

She's sitting waiting to meet Jane for one of their weekly lunches. Both of her daughters are mercifully asleep in the twin stroller as she sits and sips on her orange juice. Because yes, alcohol was still a no go because she was breastfeeding. And yes, no one is more surprised than her that she's managed to persevere for as long as she has, considering the fact, you know, _she has twins._ But they're her babies, and she'd do anything for them. Its true, motherhood has changed her. For the better, she likes to think.

 

Anyway, it's while she's sitting there that she spots her only friend. The smile on her face is genuine and it used to feel odd and foreign on her face, but these days she's getting used to it and doesn't think too much of it.

 

She stands to call out, wave her over, but something stops her.

 

Michael has dropped her off, a now two year old Mateo sitting perched on the detective's hip, happily biting into his badge with his little teeth and drooling all over it. Not that Michael seems to care. He's staring back at Jane, a smile on his lips as he says something to her, and then takes the change bag off of her and lifts it up onto his free shoulder.

 

Jane steps forward then and smothers Mateo in kisses, not that he appreciates it (because yes it's fine for _him_ to slobber over everything but be wary anyone who tries to do the same to him – he'll scratch your eyes out, she found that out the hard way). Stepping back she presses one quick kiss to Michael's lips before waving them goodbye. She watches as they head to the elevator and she stays there until the last possible minute, before turning around and looking for her.

 

And that's her cue as she gets up again, waves her over as she had planned to do before.

 

Jane's smile is wide and genuine and it still surprises her even after all this time.

 

“Hi Petra!”

 

“Hi!”

 

“How are the little ones?” she asks, looking down at the stroller and then realising they're both asleep, pulls an 'oops' face and lowers her voice, “Sorry!”

 

“No it's okay,” she waves it away, “They're due their next feeds soon anyway. Mateo not with you?” she asks, knowing full well he's not having just watched the scene before.

 

“Afraid not, he's spending some quality time with his daddy this morning. Michael's just dropping him off at the penthouse before heading to work.”

 

“Ah,” Petra says, “Good thing I decided not to drop the girls off as well in that case. I'm not sure Rafael could handle it.”

 

Jane laughs, “Can you imagine?”

 

“Oh god no! I'd rather not. Disaster waiting to happen!”

 

Jane calls over the waiter then, asks for a glass of water and Petra is in two minds about asking, because it's really none of her business, but she's curious, and well curiosity always did get the best of her and she isn't about to stop now. “So,” she clears her throat, “How is that going anyway?”

 

“What's what going?”

 

“You know, Michael and Rafael?”

 

“Oh,” Jane says, looking away for a moment, and Petra's expecting her to turn around and say 'it's awful', that they still haven't got their acts together, but when she looks back at her, she has this soft smile on her face. “Really good, actually,” she says.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah, they're both trying really hard to make it work, and so far so good.”

 

“So, it's not weird?”

 

“Surprisingly no, I mean, yes, on occasion, but mostly no.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“Yeah,” Jane smiles, but then shrugs, “I mean, it's been long enough.”

 

“True,” Petra concedes, “They must both really love you to put aside their differences like that.”

 

She doesn't realise just what it is she's said until she looks back up and sees Jane biting on her lower lip, clearly uncomfortable.

 

Both. She'd said _both._

“Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-”

 

“No,” she waves it away, “It's okay. I think it's more that they both love Mateo.”

 

And Petra remembers the sight of Mateo in Michael's arms, happily playing with his badge, entirely comfortable and the ease with which Michael in turn had held him.

 

She can't help it, her gaze turns to her sleeping daughters and hopes that she finds a Michael of her own some day.

 

“I'm really happy for you Jane,” she says.

 

And somehow Jane seems to know just what it is she's thinking. Reaching out a hand, she places it over her arm, warm and comforting, “You'll find him,” she promises, “Your _real_ Prince Charming is out there.”

 

Petra looks back up at her and smiles, “I hope so.”

 

 

\-----

 

 

Alba finds herself questioning it all, many times over.

 

When Jane had been together with Michael, she'd been happy. Michael was a good man, and he loved her daughter and when Jane had reassured her that he knew all about her _situación_ and promised she had nothing to fear from him, she'd allowed herself to get more comfortable with his presence.

 

And it was clear from day one, that her granddaughter loved Michael.

 

And Michael loved her, respected her and her choices and for that, she couldn't find fault with him.

 

But then everything had changed with the miracle of Jane's pregnancy and how could she not see it as God's will when Jane had fallen in love with the father of her child.

 

It made sense then that they should be a family. Complete and whole, and one she had only experienced the joy of for a few short years when Xiomara's father had been alive.

 

And so yes, part of her had thought Jane and Rafael belonged together; it was divine intervention and who were they to argue with that?

 

But then things changed and Jane realised that it had been Michael all along, and all she truly ever wanted was for Jane's happiness and if Michael was who she wanted, then of course, she would support her.

 

But it wasn't until months later, after Michael had proposed for the second time and Jane had said yes. It had been in the midst of all the frantic wedding preparation, and Jane trying to juggle that as well as motherhood and grad school, that she finally saw it.

 

And she remembers the moment well.

 

Jane had been sitting at the dinner table, in front of her laptop, working on her assignment, when she let out a groan, head sinking down onto the table in front of her.

 

“Hey, what's the matter babe?”

 

“I can't do it,” Jane had said, the words muffled as she spoke into her sleeve.

 

“Do what?” Michael asked as he approached her.

 

“This,” Jane waved at the computer, and then around the room, “All of it. Everything!”

 

“Hey, Jane. Look at me.”

 

And she did.

 

“You can. Tell me what you need me to do, tell us all what we can do to help and we'll do it. But you can do it. I believe in you.”

 

And it was those four words.

 

_I believe in you_.

 

Words she'd heard spoken by her own beloved and words she'd lived by ever since, and that's when she saw it.

 

Saw her and her beloved Mateo in them.

 

And she would never doubt it again.

 

Xiomara had walked into the room then, an expression of confusion on her face at the sight of a tearful Jane being pulled into Michael's arms, and the strange look on Alba's face, which didn't fit the mood of the room at all.

 

“What are you smiling at Ma?” she'd asked.

 

“Nada,” Alba had replied, smiling even wider, “Nada de nada.”

 

 

\-----

 

 

Rafael never gives up hope.

 

Never gives up on the idea of his family one day being whole and complete. And for that to happen he knows that Jane belongs with him and not with Michael.

 

He still believes it when Jane turns around and chooses _him_. Again.

 

Still believes it when Michael proposes for the second time and she agrees.

 

He even believes it watching her walk down the aisle and meet a man that wasn't him at the end of it.

 

Because how can anything else but the two of them together with Mateo be right?

 

He doesn't realise he's still holding onto it. This idea of them. Even after the wedding, several months of them being husband and wife, efforts to get along with Michael, and begrudgingly realising that he's not a bad man. At all, actually.

 

But he still hasn't let it go.

 

And it's Petra of all people who makes him see it.

 

See just how wrong he is.

 

“And what about your daughters?” she asks one night, on a rare occasion where he lets his guard down, and Petra retracts the claws and they actually _talk_. “Don't they deserve to be part of this perfect dream family of yours?”

 

And it's like the proverbial light switch being flicked on and he sees it. Just how goddamned selfish he’s being, stuck on this idea of he and Jane and Mateo.

 

Because what is a perfect family anyway?

 

The nuclear family unit that society apparently deems to be the norm?

 

Because that is never going to be his life, and he realises then, that no. No he doesn't want that.

 

What he has? Mateo, the twins, Luisa, even Jane and Petra and everyone else that came along with them, he wouldn't change a thing about them.

 

“I'm sorry,” he says, looking up at Petra, “You're absolutely right.”

 

Surprise is one word to describe the look on her face, “I am?”

 

“You are.”

 

And the smile on her face then takes him back several years and it's a comfort, surprisingly.

 

“Still doesn't mean I have to like the guy,” he adds.

 

“If you say so,” she smiles back, and if there's a little prickle of warmth in his chest at the sight, he clears his throat and changes the subject.

 

 

\-----

 

 

Mateo is thirteen years old when he finally puts all of those _Parent Trap_ inspired ideas to reunite his parents to rest.

 

Because even though he loves Michael, knows how much his mother loves him, and even though he has another half-sister to think about, he still hasn't quite let go of it.

 

What kid doesn't want their parents together?

 

But he's a smart kid. Knows his dad has moved on and is perfectly happy.

 

He looks at his mom and Michael and sees just how happy they are, and he honestly wouldn't want anything more than that. Still, it's hard to let go completely.

 

But when it does finally happen, it doesn't so much as take him by surprise as much as it _just sort of happens._

 

Not a lot of thought goes into it at all.

 

It's after the final whistle blows, and they're actually lifting the cup and he and his team-mates are jumping around in joy and climbing on top of each other. It's as the camera flashes go off from the stands and he hears his mother call out his name, and he looks up and sees his entire family there grinning wide and cheering him on - mom, Michael, dad, Petra, his three sisters, bisabuela and abuela, and Papa of course with a GO MATELIO!!! banner in hand. He runs up to them, and it's not just because Michael is the one standing the closest, but it's him he sees first, and him he wants to hug first, and so he does.

 

Michael lifts him up and crushes him to his chest, “Congratulations buddy, I am so proud of you!”

 

And it just sort of flies out of his mouth without thought, “Thanks dad.”

 

He only realises what he's said when Michael pulls away, stares back at him, mouth agape, “Did you just . . .”

 

“Yeah,” he smiles, “I think I did. If that's okay with you?”

 

He nods, eyes wide, “Absolutely okay with that.”

 

He grins back, looks up to find his dad staring back at them both and for a moment there's fear in his heart but it's gone the minute he notices the small smile and nod of acceptance.

 

He dares a glance at his mom, and of course, she's full on crying.

 

“Mom!” he whines as she pulls him into a hug and peppers his face with kisses, “Stop you're embarrassing me!”

 

“Oh hush,” she says, squeezing even tighter before letting go with his protests. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too mom. But please stop crying.”

 

“Okay,” she says, and doesn't.

 

He moves along the line then, hugging them in turn. It's when he gets to his bisabuela that he looks behind him, watches as his dads shake hands and exchange words, watches how his mom slips her hand into Michael's and the look that they share then?

 

That's the look.

 

That's the one he'll forever think of, years from now.

 

When asked how he knew his parents were meant to be.

 

He'd say it was that look.

 

That, and he _just knew._

 

 

 

**End.**

 

 


End file.
